Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: None this chapter
Chapter 25
Ella walked through the jet bridge and out into Tacoma International Airport. She tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack, the only luggage she brought with her. Passing by the baggage claim carousel, she headed quickly to the entrance and hurriedly hailed a taxi cab, trying to beat the other travelers at a chance for transportation.
Surprised at how quickly she snagged a cab, she got into the vehicle and buckled her seat belt. "The La Hacienda Motel, please," she said softly.
"Are you sure, ma'am," the driver asked. "That's a pretty rough place."
Ella nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. Please, I'm really tired. I'd just like to go to bed." And what business is it of yours where I go, she wondered. She knew if Fournier started looking for her, the last place he'd think to look would be a cheap, sleazy motel. He would most likely think she'd go to a ritzy hotel with impeccable security, not a place where she'd be lucky to have a chain lock on her door. Of course, that could lead to other dangers, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Considering what she had already seen and been through, it did not seem so perilous.
About fifteen minutes later, the taxi driver pulled into the parking lot of a scuzzy looking motel with a big neon sign which read: "LA HACIENDA MOTEL".
Wow…It looks like the motel from "Psycho", she thought. Hopefully, this wasn't a totally dreadful idea.
"You sure about this, kid," the driver asked once more before creeping to a full stop.
"How much is the fare," Ella asked, ignoring the question. She dug into her jeans pocket and grabbed a small wad of bills.
"Twenty-five dollars."
Ella grabbed a twenty and a ten, and then handed the bills over to the driver, pocketing the remainder of the cash. "Keep the change."
With that, she climbed out of the cab with her backpack strapped to one shoulder. She heard the taxi cab drive away as she pushed open the door to the motel's registration office and approached the desk.
"Needing a room," asked a dark-haired, middle-aged man.
"Yes," Ella answered, pulling her money back out.
"Please sign your name in this registration book and the city and state you are from," the apparent motel manager stated, passing a record book across the counter to her.
She had her new identity and IDs with her, but if she didn't have to use them so soon, she wouldn't. Grateful for the motel manager's unprofessional and ignorant habits, she thought up a quick name, signing herself in as 'Amy Black'. Then she wrote down that she was from Bangor, Maine.
"You can have room fifteen," the manager said, passing her a key chain with an actual metal key on it. "Do you need help with any bags?"
Ella shook her head, "No, thank you. I just have this one right here," she said, indicating her back pack, "and I can manage." Then she turned and left the office, in search of room fifteen.
Tomorrow, she thought, I'll find a house and hide out for as long as it takes. Till I feel it's safe to get on with my life.
She was indifferent however, where her life was concerned. Whether she went by Ella Seanoa, or—her new name—Claire Jones. Nothing mattered anymore.
At least there are several Claire Joneses in Seattle. There's always a bright side to things, she thought with a bitter chuckle.
}i{}i{}i{}i{
Days after he called one of his contacts, Fournier was grabbing for his cell phone as it began ringing.
"Yes" he answered the call immediately.
"I think I've found her."
"Where is she?"
"I think she's going by an alias of Claire Jones. I caught her on camera heading for a flight to Seattle at the Tacoma International Airport. She was wearing a long blond wig, but I'm sure it was her."
"Send me the footage."
"Yes, sir."
"What flight was she on?
"United Airlines flight 1245."
"Okay. I want you to keep an eye on her. Keep me updated."
"Will do. Are you going to need me to grab her?"
"No," Fournier said, deep in thought. "I'm not going to do a thing to her anytime soon. I'm going to let her worry about her family's and husband's safety. And most of all, I'm going to let her worry about what I'll do to her when I find her."
"Okay, sir. I'll keep an eye on her and call you with my reports."
"Yes. Do that."
Fournier ended the call then, and smirked, thinking out his plan.
And just when she's feeling safe and secure… Everything will come crashing down around her...
}i{}i{}i{}i{
The next morning, Ella sat in a booth at the café across from her motel room. A newspaper was spread out in front of her, open to the real estate section. She nibbled on an egg white omelet while she scanned the various houses for sale. She wanted something to make her feel safe, something with great security, something private where she could hide out for as long as she felt necessary.
She came across an ad for a large two story home partially furnished with four bedrooms and an equal number of bathrooms, a den, large garage, and a swimming pool with a ten foot tall privacy fence. The asking price was just under a half million, but the house was for sale by owner, which was a plus. And it would still leave her with more than enough money to live on.
"Sounds ideal," Ella thought out loud, circling the ad. I need to call about this house. Being for sale by owner, I could maybe just double their asking price and skip over any unnecessary paperwork. If they'd just sign the house over to me, I'd be happy with that. She took a bite of egg then, and realized she had other things to take care of as well. I need to see about putting most of my money in a checking account too. But that can wait till I get settled into a house. She rubbed her eyes, thinking of all she needed to accomplish. She was exhausted and knew everything needed to get done soon, or she would crash the way she did at her uncle's home only three weeks prior. "God, so much has happened in such a short time." She shook her head and focused on finishing her breakfast. "One thing at a time, El…Claire." That was another problem. She needed to get used to her new name.
Once she finished eating her omelet, she left a tip on her table and then headed to the back of the café to call the owner of the house for sale. She picked up the receiver of the payphone and deposited in the change to make a call.
Seconds later, the phone was ringing and a female voice answered after a few short rings.
"Hello?"
"Yes, my name is…Claire Jones. I'm calling about the house for sale on Beach Drive."
"I'm the owner. My name is Jolene Bryan. Would you like to come view the house, Ms. Jones?"
"Yes, I really would," Ella said. "When would be a good time to come by?"
"Could you meet me there in about thirty minutes?"
"That would be perfect," Ella said. "I'll be there."
"Great! See you then."
"Good-bye." Ella hung up the phone then, and hurried to her motel room. She called for a cab, grabbed her backpack, checked her wig in the mirror, and then hurried outside to catch her cab.
}i{}i{}i{}i{
"As you can see the house is in wonderful condition," Jolene Bryan said, showing Ella into the den area of the large home.
"Yes," Ella nodded with a smile. "It's beautiful. The ad says it's "partially furnished"…What exactly would I need to purchase?"
"Not too much," Jolene answered. "The bedrooms are about all that need furnishings. The kitchen has a large fridge, dishwasher, garbage disposal, stove, microwave…it's pretty well stocked. There's a late model washer and dryer—front loading—the living room and den both have sofas and arm chairs, oh, and the den also has a forty-five inch plasma television. I'll give you a full tour."
The older woman did a quick tour through the whole house pointing out the best features of each room. Then she led Ella out into the huge backyard and showed her the swimming pool.
"It slopes from three feet to fifteen feet, and it's fifteen by thirty feet."
Ella nodded and smiled. "It's very nice."
And it was, but it wasn't her primary concern.
And here comes the hard part, she thought. "So, I want to buy it. What do I need to do," she asked Jolene.
"Well, I need to do a credit check on you. And you'll need to-"
"I'm prepared to offer you double your asking price. In cash, right here and now."
Jolene stopped short and eyed Ella. "Excuse me?"
Ella took a deep breath and released it, unsure of how to explain herself.
"Tell her the truth, baby."
Ella almost jumped out of her skin at hearing her mother's voice.
"She's okay. You can trust her."
"I-I…have a situation," Ella started, uncertain of where to start.
Jolene nodded. "Go ahead, dear."
"I… I was nearly kidnapped almost three months ago. I saw my parents killed—right in front of me."
"Oh, my God," Jolene gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Recognition dawned in her eyes. "I heard about you on the news. You're Ella Roberts. But… You died!"
Ella shook her head. "No. I faked my death. I had to. The man who was after me was getting closer and he began to threaten my loved ones, trying to get to me. I had no choice." Tears burned her eyes as she explained about how she went to her father's friend and got her inheritance. "That's how I can pay you for this house. Please, help me. I have to stay hidden."
Jolene had tears in her eyes at that point. "Of course. But there's no need to double the price. I heard all about you and what you've been through. I couldn't take that much money just to keep quiet. You don't have to worry. I'll keep quiet anyway." She touched Ella's shoulder. "Are you okay now? What does he want with you, anyway?"
Ella nodded. "I'm going to be okay. As for what he wanted… He blamed my father for his wife's death as well as the death of his unborn child. So, he killed my mom for revenge. And he…"
"Was he going to kill you too?"
Ella shook her head as a tear spilled down her cheek. "No. I think death would have been better than what he had in store for me." She looked down at her hands then. "He wanted to get me pregnant—to replace the child he felt my father cost him."
"Oh, my God…" Jolene couldn't fight the urge to take the young girl in her arms. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."
Ella forced a small smile. "You've already done and said enough. You can't imagine what a relief it is for someone to know and understand."
"What made you tell me," the older woman asked. "I mean, you need to be more careful, dear. You can't just tell anyone about that. He could find you if you do."
Ella nodded her agreement. "I know. I just…had this feeling about you." She hedged around the truth. She did not know how the woman would react if she told her she could hear the voices of her dead parents. "Besides, I needed you to sell me this house without credit checks and everything."
"Well you've got it," Jolene said, patting Ella's back. "Just be careful now. I'd not leave the house for a while."
"I'm not," Ella shook her head. "I need to get a checking account started and get a car, but I'll wait a few days for that. I'm so tired I just want to go to bed. I'll stay at my motel today, and get some things ordered. I'll be here tomorrow to see them delivered."
"And if you want I can take you to my house to sign the deed over to you," Jolene offered. "You could have some dinner and stay there for tonight."
"That would be very nice. Are you sure it's not a bother?"
"I never get the chance to do something that makes a real difference in someone's life. Let me help you."
"Thank you so much," Ella said softly. "I didn't expect such kindness when I made it to Seattle. "I didn't know what to expect. Certainly not this."
"People can surprise you sometimes," Jolene smiled. "And sometimes, it's a pleasant surprise."
Ella nodded and followed Jolene to her car.
"I don't live very far from here—we'll be there in just a few minutes. Oh, and feel free to call any place you need. If you plan on moving into the house tomorrow, you may want to locate a furniture place and get you a bed ordered and set up for delivery.
Ella nodded, "Yes, that's true. Thank you. I'll do that."
"So, would you like me to call you by Ella, or Claire?"
Ella thought for a moment, "Claire, please. I can't afford to be careless."
Once they reached the house, Jolene directed Ella to the phone and phone book and then went to the kitchen to fix the girl a snack. She looked as though she'd not eaten in weeks!
"Poor girl," she murmured, pulling some cheddar cheese slices out of the refrigerator. She's been through so much. I hope she'll let me help her in any way I can. She grabbed some Ritz crackers from her cabinet, and began making some cheese crackers. One thing's for sure, she needs to get some meat on her bones!
}i{}i{}i{}i{
The morning of Ella's memorial service was rough for Joe, to say the least. He sat on the front row with Jeff, Nina and their daughters, as the preacher did the eulogy. He listened vaguely as the preacher spoke of Ella as if he'd known her forever. But he'd not seen her but perhaps once. For this reason, Joe did not pay close attention to what he said. He preferred his own memories of Ella.
But right now… he thought, it's too soon to think about them. It hurts too much. There just weren't near enough memories with her as his lover and wife. He looked up and faced the large gravestone he and the Jarrett's bought for Ella. It had been placed next to her parents' stone so that—in a sense—they were all three together.
The base was shiny black marble and the head of it was snow white granite with two beautiful angels framing it on either side. A golden plate was placed directly below one of Ella's portraits, and read:
Giselle Symone Roberts-Seanoa
1980 ~ 1998
Beloved niece to Jeff and Nina Jarrett, treasured cousin to Kayla and Jennifer Jarrett, and adored wife to Joe Seanoa.
Nothing can, nor will ease the pain of your leaving us. Remember how loved you were, and how forever missed you will be.
Please hurry up and let this be over, Joe thought. Then he felt badly because he knew Jeff, Nina and the girls needed this. They knew the preacher, so it helped them to hear him deliver Ella's eulogy. But it didn't help him. What he really wanted to do—when he was able to handle it—was go watch a bunch of home videos of her. And think about our last night together before everything went downhill. Think about how our wedding night should have ended. But if I think about all that, I'll go crazy. I just need to ignore it all. Get back to work. That'll help. Get back to work and try to forget about how good I had it for a short time.
Finally, the preacher was through and ended the ceremony with a prayer for Ella's loved ones. Everyone stood then and carried a rose up to Ella's gravestone. One at a time, they laid their flower down at the base of her stone, and then paused for a moment to say their final goodbyes. Joe purposely waited to go last. When it was his turn, and many of the mourners had moved further from the wooded area, he stood in front of the stone and just stared at the engraved words, somehow still unable to fully fathom that his young wife was gone. His wife of less than a day.
"What kind of cruel fate is this," he asked himself. "We were married for only a few short hours—not even enough time to have a complete honeymoon." Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of the injustice of it all. "She was only eighteen years old." He sniffed and wiped at his eyes before gently laying the red rose at the base of Ella's gravestone. "I love you, Ella. And I always will, lo'u alofa."
}i{}i{}i{}i{
A few weeks had passed, and Ella was as broken-hearted as ever.
She stayed in her house all day—almost every day at that, to avoid being discovered. Her only hope was that Fournier did believe she'd died. The only friends she had were Jolene Bryan and her husband, Rick. She had no family now—nothing. She missed Joe and Jeff terribly, and kept her eye out for them on TNA in the hopes she'd at least see them on television.
"I hope the next year or two passes quickly," she thought out loud as she climbed out of bed one morning. "I don't know how I'll take being cooped up in here for so long. I'm already going stir-crazy."
She allowed herself a visit with Jolene and Rick once a week, in which she always left her house in disguise. They usually had dinner together and watched a movie. But one day out of the week left several days empty and lonely. Though she was still very grateful for the couple's friendship and support.
As she entered the bathroom, Ella felt a severe roiling of nausea wash over her and had only seconds to reach the toilet before her stomach emptied itself. When she was finally able to stand up without succumbing to dry heaves, she made her way over to the lavatory to rinse her mouth.
"That's the fourth day in a row," she murmured to herself as she then loaded her toothbrush with toothpaste. I should go into the urgent care clinic and get checked out, she thought to herself as she scrubbed her mouth clean. I hope I don't have the flu.
When she finished cleaning up, she dressed quickly, fighting off more nausea. Then she pulled on a blond wig and put in brown contact lenses. Within minutes, she headed out to her car and drove the mile-long ride to the urgent care clinic.
Once inside, she approached the front desk and gave the reason for her visit. The secretary handed her a couple forms to fill out, and sitting down in a seat, she began writing in the necessary information.
Name—Claire Jones… she recited in her head as she wrote. Birthdate—February fifteenth…
She got to the part of the paperwork which began asking about medical history and circled the ailments and procedures she'd had in life. Finally the paper asked the date of her last menstrual cycle. She pulled out her pocket calendar to check on the date. Upon finding the day of her last period, she counted off the days to her next cycle and instantly realized she was well over a week late.
Her heart jolted.
Oh, my God, she thought. Maybe I'm not sick after all—not with a virus anyway. Morning sickness… She ticked off the obvious facts in her mind. It's been several weeks since Joe and I married… I wasn't on birth control… He didn't use any protection… I'm late…
Shaking, she finished filling out the forms and turned them into the front desk. She'd barely sat down in her seat again, when she heard her fake name called out.
"Claire Jones?"
She rose from the chair and followed the nurse back to the nurses' station to be weighed, and have her vital stats taken. Then she was placed in an exam room and was asked the reason for her visit.
"I-I…" she stammered. "I thought I was coming in with a stomach virus or something," she said softly. "But when I filled out the medical history form… I realized I'm over a week late for my monthly cycle. I think… I think I'm pregnant."
The nurse smiled warmly. "Well, congratulations. I'll let the doctor know you're here and I'll tell her you want a pregnancy test."
Ella nodded, still shaken. "Thank you."
With that the nurse turned and closed the door behind her.
A little while later, Ella was meeting the doctor and having blood drawn for a test. Then she had to wait while the blood was tested in the clinic's lab.
Within an hour, the doctor came to inform her she was indeed, pregnant. She handed Ella a piece of paper with a recommended OB-GYN's name on it as well as a scheduled appointment, and also prescribed her some prenatal vitamins to begin taking immediately.
In a daze, Ella drove home, deep in thought.
I'm having Joe's baby, she thought in wonder. She felt a mix of varying emotions. Happiness at the thought of their love creating a human life. Fear for her child's life should Fournier find her. Sadness that Joe couldn't share her joy. And lastly, the guilt of Joe never knowing about his baby, as well as the guilt of their baby never knowing its father.
"God, help me through this," she prayed. "How do I do this alone?"
